


Cry No More

by eerian_sadow



Series: Avalon [16]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Community: tf_speedwriting, Funeral, Gen, bring all your tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker finishes one last task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry No More

**Author's Note:**

> for tf_speedwriting’s sept. 29th round.
> 
> Prompt: #6 (a song) “Wayward Son” by Kansas  
> 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/eerian_sadow/pic/000q210t/)

His hands shook sometimes, even when he was working. Perceptor had given him some technical name for it, but he had promptly forgotten; it wasn’t important so his memory banks simply didn’t retain it. There were… a lot of things like that now.

He stepped back away from the marble—a beautiful red that Shatter had found for him _somewhere_ —and gave himself a moment for the trembling to subside. This piece had to be as perfect as the others; it defeated the purpose if they weren’t a matched set. And he only had this one left.

And then he could finally be finished.

When his hands were steady again, he returned to his work. Not much of it left to do, just some final details on the face and the polishing. The stone was perfect for this piece; it would gleam once like the finest gem when it was completed.

And then he could rest.

He carved and polished until low fuel warnings popped up in his internal display. Then he stepped back and examined the work. The image carved in the marble smiled back at him brilliantly and he knew it was done. This piece was as perfect as the others—as perfect as he had always demanded of himself—and now he was finally finished.

Weary in body and spark, he turned and trudged back to his quarters.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Dad knew,” Static said hollowly as she and her brother gazed upon the workroom full of ornately carved sarcophagus lids. “He knew it was time.”

“Yes. He always knew he wouldn’t live on.” Shatter put an arm around his sister and hugged her close. “His processor was failing, and he knew that. He spent a lot of his lucid time getting ready.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The femme scrubbed a hand across her optics in weariness. “Maybe I could have been ready when it happened.”

“You’re never ready.” The scientist fought back a wave of sadness as he thought of the deaths of Emily and Emdee. “No matter how much time you have to prepare, you’re never ready.”

“Hey.” They both turned as Sideswipe entered the room. Without speaking they fell into his arms and mourned together.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Static frowned as the sarcophagus lid—a blank sheet of obsidian—was lowered onto the top of Sunstreaker’s tomb. “Are you sure he didn’t leave one for himself?”

“Baby girl, I went through every room in his suite.” Sideswipe sighed. “There wasn’t anything in there for him. He always wanted us all to be a matched set, but he didn’t make a piece for himself.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Shatter said. “He was vain, not selfish. These pieces were representations of his love for his family, not something he could have applied to himself the same way.”

“I don’t like it,” Static protested. “There should be more than just a black rock to remember him by.”

“There will be,” the Seeker told her. “I’ll find someone who can carve him the way we remember him.”

Sideswipe didn’t say anything, but he gave his nephew a small smile.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The project had, as the artist had promised him, taken years. It was a very large surface and she was a very small human—barely five feet tall. But he work was beautiful and she had been willing to take his commission and commit to the work for as long as it took.

Static was out in the field when the work was finally finished and he knew that she wouldn’t want him to wait for her to put the new lid on Sunstreaker’s sarcophagus. The artist sat on his shoulder and watched as Sideswipe and Tripwire lowered her work into place and then gave him a satisfied smile.

“I hope your father approves,” she said softly.

Shatter looked over the carving, taking in the details and how carefully she had kept to Sunstreaker’s form while still adding her own stylized details. She had carved him with an open mouthed smile, looking radiantly happy in a way he hadn’t for at least forty years.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

As they turned to leave, he smiles softly when he caught sight of three almost hidden glyphs in the light. That she had been able to include them gave him some small measure of peace.

_Cry No More._  



End file.
